


Pilot

by Sam4265



Series: Inverse Operations [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Rewrite, Child Neglect, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, John Winchester's Bad Parenting, Older Brother Sam Winchester, Younger Brother Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-19
Updated: 2014-03-19
Packaged: 2018-01-16 06:21:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1335244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sam4265/pseuds/Sam4265
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The pilot episode, in which Dean is eighteen, and Sam is twenty-two.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pilot

When Sam was four years old he was overjoyed to meet his baby brother. His name was Dean. When their mother, Mary Winchester, burned over Dean’s crib on the night of his 6 month old birthday the brothers, along with their father John, left Lawrence Kansas for a life on the road hunting ghost, demons, and all things that go bump in the night. Sam grew up looking after his little brother, it was his job. But he also loved school. And as he grew up he and his father were constantly at each other’s throats arguing about Sam and Dean’s schooling. Sam though he and Dean should spend more time working on their schooling, while their father thought their time was better spent training and hunting. Sam refused to hunt until he was 13, but while Sam was at a camp when he was 14 and Dean was 10, Dean was pulled into his first hunt, a ghost a simple salt n’ burn their father said. Sam was furious. From then on he denied their father at every turn, and poor Dean was caught in the middle, always trying to play peacemaker between his older brother and their father. Finally when Sam was 19 he left the Winchester household to move to Palo Alto with a full ride to Stanford. It had been three years since he saw his brother or his father when he finally saw Dean again. 

Halloween night 2005 the last thing Sam Winchester expected to see was his little brother Dean standing in his kitchen asking for a beer. Sam was still staring at his brother in shock when Jessica walked in and turned on the light. 

“Sam, what’s going on?” Sam turned around to see Jessica standing in the doorway staring groggy eyed and him and Dean.

“Jess, hey. Uh, this is Dean.” Sam said, gesturing vaguely to Dean.

“Your brother Dean?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I love the Smurf’s.” Dean said, cocky grin snugly in place on his young face. Sam rolled his eyes.

“Dean, what are you doing here?” He asked, his annoyance level climbing. Sure he was overjoyed to see his brother, but he was sure Dean could have done this in the daylight, and Sam really just wanted to sleep. 

He missed the hurt look on Dean’s face completely by accident.

“Jessica, if you’d please excuse us, I’ve got to talk to my brother about some urgent family business.” At least Dean was remembering his manners. 

“No, whatever you’ve got to say you can say in front of Jess.” Sam said, moving to stand next to his girlfriend. Dean sighed, but didn’t argue.

“Dad’s on a hunting trip, and he hasn’t been home in a few days.” 

“Jess would you please excuse us.” 

Well Sam sure as hell wasn’t expecting that. 

SPN

Dean led Sam outside, Sam arguing with him the whole way about their life hunting. When they finally got to the car Sam had to fight not to smile. This car was his home; the only odd thing about it was the arsenal in the trunk and the fact that Dean had driven it here. 

“Dad gave you the car?” 

“Yeah, for my sixteenth birthday.” Sam felt a pang of guilt. His brother’s sixteenth birthday had come and gone and he hadn’t even called him. So had his seventeenth, and his eighteenth. Dammit. Dean’s eighteenth birthday had come and gone and Sam hadn’t called him. He vaguely remembered his phone ringing late that night while he’d been studying with an unknown caller ID. He was sure now that that had been Dean. He adopted a guilty expression and was about to apologize when Dean opened the trunk and Sam’s guilt was replaced by anger at the sight of the arsenal in the trunk. 

“Dad’s last case was in Jericho, sent me a tape, it’s in here somewhere.” Dean started sifting through the weapons with a precision that made Sam mildly annoyed. 

“Where were you?” Dean looked up. 

“What?”

“Dad was alone, so where were you.” Sam hoped to God that Dean would say something like ‘Oh Sammy, I was just at school studying like a good little boy. You silly goose!’

“Had my own gig. This voodoo thing in New Orleans.” Of course he really shouldn’t count on Dean saying silly goose. 

“Alone?” Sam really, really hoped he’d say Caleb or Bobby or somebody was with him, because Sam sure as hell hadn’t been on solo hunts when he was 18. 

“Yeah, why?” Sam tried to put a lid on his anger.

“Dad let you hunt alone?”

“I’m 18 dude.” Well there goes that lid idea.

“Seriously Dean?! You’re 18! You know what most 18 year olds are doing? Going to college! Or getting a job! They aren’t doing solo jobs hunting some voodoo bitch in New Orleans ‘cause their control freak father is on the other side of the freaking country and can’t bothered to be with them!” Immediately Sam regretted the words. The wounded look on Dean’s face was bad, but it was nothing compared to the weary defeated look he’d already had on that Sam just noticed.

“I don’t want to fight you on this Sammy. Can we just get back to the case?” For the first time Sam actually looked at his brother. Well and truly looked. And he looked… skinnier. His clothes built his bulk which was why Sam hadn’t noticed, but he realized now. Dean was thin, his eyes were hollow and the dark circles under them suggested little sleep. He looked half-starved and dead tired, but he’d still managed to look so Dean that Sam hadn’t even noticed. But now that he had, he was angry. If this was how their father treated his brother, his just became a legal adult not even a year ago, and isn’t even able to legally drink yet, little brother then Sam had some words for John Winchester. Short, sweet, and viciously colorful words.

“When was the last time you slept?” Dean avoided his eyes.

“I’m fine Sam.”

“Dean.”

“Sam.”

“Dean, when?” Sam grabbed his brother’s shoulders and forced Dean to face him. Dean looked down.

“Couple days.” He said so quietly Sam almost didn’t hear it. 

“What?”

“I said a couple days Sam. It’s no big deal, here I found the tape.” Dean shoved the tape in his hand, but still would not look at him. Sam fumed. A couple of days? Dean was barely an adult; he still needed sleep more than Sam or their father did. Sam had the urge once again to punch John Winchester in the face. But he bit back a retort and took the tape. They listened to it and Sam went back inside to go get his things. He soothed Jess’s concern, by throwing her some bull story about a Jack a Jim and a Jose. He was sure she didn’t believe him. It didn’t matter at the moment though; he’d talk to her about it when he got back.

When he got back to the car Dean was waiting in the driver’s seat. Sam opened the door and poked his head in.

“Scoot.”

“Oh come on Sam!” 

“Dean, you’re tired, and I’m not letting you drive me anywhere.” Sam said with a voice that clearly stated end of discussion. Dean grumbled something about mother henning bitch and Sam smirked then replied.

“Jerk.”

Dean slid over to the passenger side and put his head up against the cold window, his eyes sliding shut. Sam frowned. He took off his jacket and shoved it in Dean’s lap then started the car.

“Put that behind your head.” Dean rolled his eyes but did as he was told. He was out in less than five minutes. 

SPN

The road was long dark and empty. The sky was black and the stars were nonexistent. The only thing that gave Sam any indication of where he was, was the full moon and the Impala’s headlights. They’d been driving for a good two and a half hours. In that time Sam had allowed himself the luxury of glancing over at his little brother several dozen times. Dean looked small. Smaller than Sam remembered. His blond hair was also darker than Sam remembered. And boy did Sam remember the blonde hair. When Dean was little he was so blonde Sam didn’t think it was possible to be that blonde. As Dean got older it darkened, but never really lost its blonde hue. Now as Sam looked over his brother he noticed that his hair was a darker blonde, borderline brown but not quite. There was also the ever prominent splash of freckles across his face that made women weak in the knees. 

Looking at Dean sleeping was like looking at his brother 5 years ago. Small, young, innocent, vulnerable. Sam had to choke back guilt. No matter how capable Dean was he was also Sam’s responsibility, and Sam had neglected that responsibility for the past 3 years. The more he thought about it the guiltier he got. That was three Christmas’s, three birthday’s just ignored, oh, and a High School graduation. Sam swallowed hard. What had Dean’s eighteenth birthday been like? Had he gotten any presents? Card? Probably not many, if any. Maybe a call from Bobby? Had Dean gotten a cake? A gruff ‘happy birthday son’ from their father? Sam sure as hell hoped so. He thought about Dean’s high school graduation. His brother had finally finished high school. Sam remembered his well. Dean had been sitting there, front row, their dad had been late, but Dean had been there. It had taken Sam an extra year, and he’d been pissed, but he’d done it, and almost the next day he’d taken off. He remembered that well too. 

It had been a dark and stormy night, no seriously. The sky had been pitch black, no moon, no stars, no nothing, except the viciously loud and aggravating storm that had not contributed to anyone’s mood. A 15 year old Dean had actually been slightly unnerved by the booming thunder and brilliant flashes of white light. It had been the night Sam had decided to tell everyone about Stanford. Well, more like Dean had found the letter in his jacket after Sam had asked him to grab his diploma from it. Dean had come back with the letter and asked Sam with the biggest most innocent green eyes what it was. Sam’s heart had clenched tight as he’d looked into his younger brother’s wide eyes, trying desperately to understand what was going on. Sam had immediately spilled his guts. He’d told Dean about the application, about the acceptance letter, and about the scholarship. A full ride, Dean had been impressed. He’d also looked slightly hurt. And the first things to come out of Dean’s mouth after ‘congratulations Sammy’, had been,

“So I guess that means you’re leaving me with Dad?” 

Sam wanted desperately to shut his eyes against the memory of Dean’s wide jade eyes offering up their last hope, last loose end, last strand of innocence. Because they both knew what would happen if Sam wasn’t around to help Dean with school and their dad. 

“Yeah kiddo. I’m sorry Dean, but, I-I have to.” Dean had merely nodded, offering up no opposing argument. Nothing, just blind acceptance, just as he’d been trained. 

The eyes aren’t the windows to the soul, they are the doors. Sam knew because in that moment Dean’s doors had shut and locked, kicking his big brother out for good. 

What happened next however was almost worse. Someone cleared their throat, and both boys had looked up to see John Winchester standing in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes set and dangerous, body tense.

The shouting match that followed had been mind-blowing, even by Winchester standards. Sam and John had whipped out insults faster than the speed of light. They’d said things ranging from, you bastard, to you’re the worst father/son that ever existed. Dean had been thrown into the mix, desperately trying to keep Sam and John apart. Sam didn’t remember seeing much other than red and his father’s angry face, but he did get glimpses of Dean’s anguished torn expression, trying to decide who to side with. Sam vaguely recalled blood on somebody’s knuckles but he couldn’t remember whose or whose blood it was. The only thing about that night that really stuck out in his memory was being shoved into the door and his father shouting,

“If you walk out that door, don’t you ever come back!”

And he’d walked out the door.

And he’d never gone back.

SPN

After two more hours of driving Sam decided he was hungry and needed to pee. It was coming up on 7am and he figured Dean would need food too. Sam stole a glance at his sleeping brother. Dean had been out the entire ride, and still was. Sam had the sickening sense that the couple days were more like a couple of weeks with a few hours grabbed in between. If Sam knew anything about his brother it was that kid was loyal to a fault, and would not have spent any hours asleep that could be spent finding their father asleep unless absolutely necessary. Meaning staying awake until he was borderline catatonic. 

Sam sighed as he pulled into a roadside diner, and gently shook Dean awake. Dean shot up in an instant, pressing himself against the door, his body tense and defensive.

“Whoa, buddy, it’s just me.” Sam soothed. Realization hit and Dean’s body immediately relaxed. He rubbed his eyes groggily with fisted hands, and Sam had to reign in a pitying look. He looked so young when he did that. Definitely not like the 18 year old he was. Which, for all intents and purposes, was still young in Sam’s eyes.

“C’mon Dean, breakfast.” Dean yawned and nodded. He got out of the car and stretched luxuriously. Sam had the feeling it was the best sleep Dean had had in days, hell, if he was right, weeks.

They walked into the diner and a bulky man with cold steel colored pissed off eyes lead them to their table. He practically threw the menus at them after Dean muttered something about someone not being able to do anything about their morning wood. Sam shot his brother a glare, but there wasn’t any heart in it. It felt too good to have his little brother’s 5th grade humor back. 

Their waitress was a different type of person completely. 

Though Dean was originally annoyed with the fact that she wasn’t his age and hot, the motherly type had always been just as good, if not better, for the boys. Especially after a long drive. They were always kind, and didn’t hesitate to slip big-eyed freckle-faced Dean an extra slice of pie, or puppy-eyed big-dimpled Sammy a second helping of eggs.

This particular waitress was big and round with permanent laugh lines and rosy cheeks. Her name tag named her Margarie and the twang in her voice housed her somewhere south. Much more south than Jericho, which they were only a few hours from. 

“What can I get ya boys?” 

“Coffee please, and an egg-white omelet.” Sam ordered first without looking at the menu. These roadside places always had the same things.

“Coffee for me too, black. And, uh, pancakes with side of bacon please.” Sam looked up. While the circles under Dean’s eyes had gotten smaller, they were still there.

“’Course hon. Now you boys wait right here. I’ll be back with your drinks in a second.” She flashed them a warm smile, then walked off. Dean rubbed his eyes again and yawned. Sam frowned. 

“Be right back.” Dean said as he started to get up. Sam held him back with a hand on his arm.

“Where’re you going?” Dean gave him an odd look.

“You’re concern is touching Samantha, but I need to take a leak. I’ll be back in a second.” Sam let Dean go, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Hey, he hadn’t seen his brother in three years and he was worried about him. So sue him. 

When Dean came back the waitress came back with their coffee. She made a big fuss about Dean being too young to need black coffee, and about Sam making sure he put some sugar and cream in it. Only after Sam promised to put exactly one cream and two sugars (‘cause this sweet young thing just needs some extra sugar) did she walk off, leaving the brothers with smiles plastered to their faces, even if Sam’s was slightly strained and Dean’s was worn. 

Dean however had elected to ignore Margarie’s advice, and Sam could only roll his eyes as he loaded his own with cream and sugar. Sam also decided to ignore Dean’s cough which sounded suspiciously like he was saying girl.

“So, how’ve you been?” Sam asked casually, taking a sip of his coffee nonchalantly. Dean quirked a suspicious eyebrow at him but Sam just shrugged innocently.

“Fine.” Dean answered with one syllable of emotionless nothing. Boy did that get on Sam’s nerves, but he shoved down his rising annoyance because God only knew a Sam Winchester explosion would only succeed in getting nothing from Dean. 

“Wanna elaborate?”

“Not really.”

Sam sighed, and resisted the urge to pull a patented Sam Winchester bitch face. 

“Dean.”

“What?”

“How have you been? What’s been going on? How was your eighteenth birthday? Or your High School graduation for God’s sake?” Dean averted his eyes and mumbled something inaudible.

“What?”

“I said I didn’t graduate.” Sam froze. 

“What do you mean you didn’t graduate?” 

“What do you think I meant Sam? I got my GED and dropped outta high school.” Dean’s eyes were stone cold and Sam felt guilt grip his heart. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that if he’d stayed Dean would be a high school graduate right now. But he hadn’t. And now Dean was a high school dropout. 

“Dean, why didn’t you graduate?” Dean hesitated, and seemed to suddenly find his coffee extremely fascinating. 

“Dean.” Sam’s voice was a warning. 

“Dad didn’t-“ Sam didn’t let him finish.

“Dad! Dad didn’t let you finish high school?! What? Was your education getting in the way of your ability to kill things?!” Sam hissed, trying to keep his voice from alerting the whole diner. 

Dean opened his mouth to say something, but Sam cut him off.

“Don’t you dare vouch for him Dean! This was high school! This is the one thing that everyone needs! An education!” Dean’s eyes were glued to his coffee.

“Sam… it wasn’t like it was completely his decision.” Sam huffed out a laugh.

“What? You wanted to be some dumbass drop out with six bucks to his name?! Or were you just too freaking brainwashed to think anything was more important that Dad’s fucking suicide mission?!” The look on Dean’s face was one of pure hurt, but Sam couldn’t find it in himself to care, he was too angry. 

“Dammit Dean! You should have fought him on that! That’s your freaking education! Why the hell did you let him make you do that?!” Dean’s doors shut once more and Sam was reminded sickeningly of that night 3 years ago.

“It was my choice Sam. You were gone. Dad needed back up. School was only getting in the way. I got my GED and I got the hell out. Whatever the hell was so fucking important that I hadn’t learned it yet I obviously didn’t need since I’m still living and breathing. Whatever you have to say about that, I don’t want to hear it. And if you even cared about my graduation, you would have called.” Dean snapped. Sam was taken aback. He felt a horrible, gut wrenching guilt eat away at him. Dean was diploma less (ironic since in a way Sam’s diploma was the whole reason Sam was gone in the first place), and now that Sam looked, a little heart broken. 

“And just so you know, I’m not stupid or brainwashed.” Dean added in a small voice. Sam swallowed hard. Had he really said that? He didn’t remember saying that. Damn Winchester rage. It was that stupid big red button in the back of the room under the glass case you weren’t supposed to touch but did anyway. 

Sam was about to say something when Margarie came back. She had both their plates and a smile on her face, which dropped right off at the sight of Dean’s anguished look, and Sam’s one part horrified, three parts guilty expression.

“Here you are boys. Pancakes and bacon for you honey, and an egg white omelet for you sugar.” Dean waited until she was gone before practically inhaling his food while Sam tentatively ate his piece by piece. He didn’t call Dean out on his eating habits since he knew exactly why they were there. Dean didn’t look half-starved for nothing. When he was finally done Sam was barely half finished.

“Hurry up Sam. I’m waitin’ in the car.” 

“Dean…”

“Don’t Sam. I’m fine.” It was curt and to the point. The point being Dean didn’t want to talk about this, ever again. Well Sam was just not going to stand for that, but he’d pester Dean after he finished his omelet. 

After Sam paid and was about to take off, Margarie stopped him.

“Watch out for that brother of yours. He looks like he needs a friend right about now.” Sam nodded, and promised to look out for Dean. He used to think it was pointless; promising to look after Dean considering it was his job. But apparently there was a point, because Sam had been ignoring that job for three years and now he was losing Dean. 

SPN

When they finally got back on the road Dean insisted on driving. He still looked tired, and Sam would have preferred he got another few hours of sleep, but Dean wasn’t having any of it. Something about not wanting Sam to crash his baby. When Sam got in the passenger side he realized how strange it was sitting there with Dean at the wheel. Usually it was him or their dad driving, almost never Dean. Being behind the wheel of the Impala obviously relaxed him as Sam could physically see the tension melting out of Dean as he turned on the ignition. Sadly with his little brother in the front seat all hopes of any conversation Sam had wanted to have were cut off by the sudden burst of Led Zeppelin blaring through the speakers as high as Dean could get it without bursting an eardrum. 

For now I smell the rain, and with it the pain, and it’s headed my way

Sometimes I grow so tired, but I know I’ve got one thing I got to do

Ramble on

Sam gave Dean a curious look. Dean had never really been in control of the music when their dad was driving, or when Sam was for that matter, though it had never really been a problem when their dad was driving since he and Dean liked the same types of music. But Sam was curious as to why this song. He turned down the radio and Dean shot him an annoyed look.

“Why Ramble On?” Sam asked.

“Favorite song.” Dean replied stoically. Sam shut up as Dean turned the music back up. How did he not know that? How did he not know his own little brother’s favorite song? When Sam thought about it he realized just how much of Dean’s life he’d missed. Sure it had only been three years, but it had been three important years. When he’d left Dean had been 15, and about to start sophomore year. He’d missed Dean’s entire high school life. Who knew what his brother had been doing. Sam remembered the trouble makers at his various high schools were usually into getting drunk and high. Was that what Dean had done? Sam glanced at Dean with renewed concern. 

SPN

Sam’s thoughts had continued to pester him all the way to Jericho. After pulling out an array of fake ID’s Sam was sad to see Dean had and pestering the cops they staked out the night and waited for the ghost of ‘kill guys in their cars in the middle of a bridge ‘cause that’s real conspicuous’ to make a return trip. While they were there Sam decided to apologize to Dean. 

“Dean, look kid-“

“I’m not a kid anymore Sam.” 

“Right. Uh, look Dean, I’m sorry about what I said man. I was mad at Dad. I didn’t mean it. You’re not brainwashed, and you’re sure as hell not dumb.” Dean just looked at him with those wounded eyes and replied with a simple, “It’s fine.” 

Sam sighed.

“No Dean, it’s not. Look I’m sorry I said-“ Sam was shocked when Dean shoved him up against the side of the bridge.

“I don’t care about what you said Sam! You think I don’t hear that all the time?! Why can’t you be smart like Sammy Dean? Or damn kid, why do you have to be so stupid. I don’t care about that anymore Sam! I get it already! I’m mad because…” He trailed off and shoved Sam away, and it broke Sam’s heart. What the hell did he mean he got it? Did he think he was actually stupid? And if that wasn’t why he was mad, then why the hell was he? 

Sam started to say something when he was blinded by headlights. He squinted his eyes against the light, and glared ahead of him, whoever thought pissing him off right now was a good idea was a fucking moron. 

It took him a second to realize the car in front of them was the Impala. 

It took another second for him to realize that if the lights were on and neither of them were driving it, then someone else was.

“Who the hell’s driving the Impala?” Sam asked. His stomach did somersaults when Dean held up the keys.

When the Impala started toward them Sam shoved Dean ahead of him and shouted,

“Run!” 

The brothers took off sprinting down the bridge, and jumped for the edge. Well Sam jumped for the edge; Sam was horrified to see Dean jumped right over it. 

Sam clung to the side of the bridge while the Impala came to a screeching halt right in front of him. Sam immediately turned to look down into the river, where he couldn’t see Dean.

“Dean?! Dean you okay?!” Sam shouted over the edge. He laughed in relief when he saw a mud clad Dean crawl out of the river and give him a thumbs up.

“I’m super.” He called back, his voice breathy and sounded painful. He was going to be bruised tomorrow. Of that Sam was sure. 

“Hang on Dean, I’m coming to get you!” Sam crawled to the other side of the bridge, got in the Impala and drove to the end they’d come from before getting out and practically sprinting down the ravine toward Dean.

Sam knelt beside a groaning Dean, and pulled his brother’s head into his lap. Dean shoved him away with another groan.

“Jeez Samantha, I’m fine.” Sam started checking Dean over, making sure there wasn’t any blood mixed with the mud covering him.

“Hold still jerk, I need to check you.”

“Mother henning bitch.” Sam quirked a smile. Yeah, Dean was ganna fine. 

SPN

At the first motel they stopped at Dean gave the guy at the counter a credit card with the name Bridaframien on it.

“You guys havin’ a family reunion or somethin’?”

“’Scuse me?” Dean asked. 

“Another guy, Bridaframien, bought out a room for the whole month.” Dean shot Sam a look. Sam held his breath, if John Winchester was in this motel the first thing he was going to do was hug him. Then he was going to punch him in the face. Then he was going to yell at and beat the shit out of him. Yeah, that sounded like a good plan.

“What room?” Sam asked.

“14.” The guy at the desk said.

“Thanks.” Dean snatched the credit card back and shot out the door. Sam followed, hot on his heels. By the time Sam got to the room Dean was already on his knees picking the lock. Sam arrived just in time to hear the lock click. Dean stood on shaky legs, and Sam put his hand on Dean’s shoulder. Dean looked back at him with those damn wounded eyes and pushed the door open to find… 

No one. 

The room was empty of all life. 

The evidence that John Winchester had been there was vomited all over the room. Pictures, maps, string connecting maps, markers, all kinds of wards and protection charms and symbols spread out all over the place. Dean walked in first and turned on the lamp illuminating an unmade bed and a half eaten burger. Dean picked up the burger, sniffed it, and set it back down. When he turned around his face was impassive.

“Hasn’t been here in a couple of days at least. Ass probably got himself kidnapped.” There was hurt written all over Dean’s face. Sam had a sneaking suspicion he knew why.

“Dean, how long have you and Dad been out of contact?” Sam asked, his voice even. Dean looked at the burger before saying,

“Three weeks.” 

Sam had to try really hard not to punch the wall. 

Three weeks.

Three goddamn weeks their father had let Dean worry. 

And he’d been here up until a few days ago. Probably was still here.

He’d purposely ignored Dean for three motherfucking weeks.

Oh Sam was more than ready to strangle their father. No questions asked.

Sam wanted more than anything to pull his little brother into a bone crushing hug, but God knew how well that was going to go over.

“Dean…” Dean shook his head.

“No, it’s all right. I’m gonna go take a shower.” Dean disappeared into the bathroom without a sound, and Sam immediately heard the shower going. Sam sat down on the bed and looked around the room. It looked like their dad had done all the work for them on this one. Sam wanted to be happy about the fact that this hunt wasn’t going to last very long and then he could get back to Jessica, but all he could think about was Dean. He knew there was no way Dean was going to leave the life, and he also knew there was no way he was going to stop looking for their father. But Sam couldn’t help but worry about his little brother. Dean had no one, not even their dad anymore. Sam sighed and lay back on the bed. It smelled like cheap motel, leather and gun oil. Otherwise known as John Winchester. Everything in this room reminded Sam of him; it also reminded him of everything John had done. Like leaving them in motel rooms for weeks on end with little food and less money. But he tried. That was how Dean excused his every move. Sam realized that that probably came from the fact that Dean never knew another way to live other than under John Winchester’s tyranny. Sam sighed. He should have tried harder to get Dean out of their life when he left. 

SPN

When Dean was out of the shower they made short work of figuring out what John had left for them. Then Dean went out to get food, and he didn’t come back. When Sam got the call that police spotted him his first instinct was get Dean out now. The second was dammit Dean. Instead he just faked a 911 call and waited for Dean to call him from their room or a payphone.

“Fake 911 call Sammy, I don’t know that’s pretty illegal.” Sam just rolled his eyes. He barely noticed the fact that Dean had called him Sammy for the first time since they’d seen each other again.

“He left.” It was so quiet Sam almost didn’t hear it. 

“What?” 

“Dad Sam. He left Jericho.” Sam swallowed hard. Their father had left. Again. And he was sure it was taking its’ toll on Dean. The kid was barely old enough to legally live on his own, or have a driver’s license for that matter. He couldn’t even drink legally yet and his only family left had just up and left him again. Sam steeled himself. There was no way in hell he was leaving Dean behind again. It was NOT happening. Not this time.

“How do you know?” Sam asked.

“I’ve got his journal Sam. It’s got my name in it, and coordinates. I think he left it for me. I think he’s giving me a job Sammy.” Sammy again. Dean was freaking out. Sam wanted desperately to just give the kid a hug. Too bad phones don’t work that way. 

“It’s all right Dean. We’ll find him. Look kiddo I’m coming back your way, just talked to the husband.”

“’m not a kid Sam.” It was Dean trying to hide his emotions again. Dammit if Sam didn’t know where he got that particular personality trait. 

“Whatever, still coming back aroun- shit!” Sam slammed down on the breaks as some woman appeared in front of him. 

“Sam? Sam! Sammy!” 

“Take me home.” The woman in the backseat was most definitely Constance aka I drowned my kids and jumped off a bridge girl. And she was most definitely pissed. 

The car started on its own and drove itself to Constance’s house. Sam figured it out the minute the Impala stopped. She was scared to go home. Her ghost was afraid of her house. Probably because it was where she’d drowned her kids. Real mother of the year. 

Her ghost sat on Sam and kissed him. Then started digging her fingers into his chest to try and kill him. Sam screamed in pain, but was shocked to hear bullets firing, causing the ghost to glitch in and out of existence.

“Sam!” It was Dean.

“I’m taking you home.” Sam grunted and slammed on the gas, causing the Impala to lurch forward and crash right through the porch and into the house.

“SAM!” He could hear Dean shouting as he ran up to the car. Suddenly Dean’s face was there, on the passenger’s side, wrenching the door open.

“Sam you okay? Can you walk?” He asked, his eyes wide and worried.

“Yeah, fine. Help me.” Dean helped him out of the car and together they stood. Constance shoved an old dresser up against them so they had front row seats to the screaming ghost roast as her kid’s ghost’s got their revenge on their loony toon of a mother. 

When Sam and Dean got the dresser off of themselves Sam walked over to the spot on the floor Constance’s ghost had died on.

“She could never go home.” Sam mused. “Oh and what were you thinking shooting Casper in the face you moron?” Sam asked his tone light and teasing. Dean just rolled his eyes.

“Saved your ass. And I’ll tell you what, if you screwed up my car, I’m gonna kick your ass.” Sam just laughed. Dean’s car. Dean’s Impala It sounded right. And it looked right too. The memory of the tension literally melting off of Dean as he got in the driver’s seat, turned on the ignition, and blasted his favorite song through the speakers was burned into Sam’s mind, right where he wanted it. Dean had never looked more at home. 

“C’mon you jerk, let’s get back on the road and put Jericho in the rearview mirror.” Dean grinned.

“Oh I am all for it bitch.”

SPN

Dean was once again in the front seat, having blatantly denied needing any more sleep, and this time Sam had held his tongue. 

“Looks like they coordinates lead somewhere called Blackwater Ridge.”

“Great, sounds like a hell of a town. How far?” Dean asked, taking a peek at the map Sam had spread out in front of himself. 

“About 600 miles.” Dean nodded.

“Bet we can make it by morning if we shag ass.” Sam would never hate himself more than he did in that moment. He stared right into those big wounded green eyes and said,

“Dean I can’t.” Any trace of hope that had been on Dean’s face slipped right off. 

“Right, law school. Good for you Sam.” It wasn’t sarcastic. It was sincere. It made it that much worse.

“Dean you know you can stay with me and Jess.” Dean shook his head and adopted a sad smile.

“Can’t do that Sam. I’m 18. Movin’ out age. Gotta do my own stuff now. ‘sides, Dad gave me a job, and I still gotta find him. Can’t just leave him.” Sam looked down, guilt and anger warring inside of him for control. He was guilty yeah, but he was angry at their dad more for putting this on Dean. For making him into a perfect little soldier.

“You know you don’t have to be Dad’s errand boy. You can do whatever you want Dean.” Dean looked him dead in the eye and said,

“This is what I want Sam. I want to help people. I want to save people. I don’t care about a job and a white picket fence with two and a half kids and working from 5 to 9 every day. That isn’t what I want Sam, and you can’t make me want it.” He then proceeded to play the entire Led Zeppelin Mothership tape as loud as he could get it without looking at Sam. Sam just stared at the map and didn’t say anything. What could he say to that? It was air tight. The life he wanted and the life Dean wanted were different. No way around that. And for once in his life Dean wasn’t following Sam around like a lost puppy, and he wasn’t exactly following their dad either. He was saving people, hunting things, taking up the family business. He was doing what he loved and what he needed to do. How could Sam argue with that?

SPN

When they got back to the apartment Sam insisted on Dean going inside. 

“You need sleep, and it’s going to be better on my couch than at any motel room you can find.” It had sickened him to even say it. He was Dean’s older brother. He should have been looking out for the kid. But what was he doing? Shipping him off to God knew where, and he wouldn’t see him again until God knew when. He wanted to see Dean off properly, and that meant not saying see ya never at 2am. 

Sam smiled when Dean passed out after hitting the couch. Poor kid needed to sleep more. 

“Jess we’re home!” Sam shouted - no answer. Though he found that worrying, he was too caught up in his own thoughts to take much notice. 

Suddenly Sam felt something drip onto his forehead. He opened his eyes and looked up, and knew in that moment that his life was over. Jessica was on the ceiling, a bloody slash across her stomach, her eyes wide and terrified, blonde hair spread around her head like a twisted halo. Her mouth was open in a silent never ending scream.

“NO! JESS!” Sam roared as fire spread out around her, clouding her from view. Sam wasn’t sure how he got off the bed, but the next thing he knew he was being dragged out of the apartment by Dean. His little brother was giving it his all to get Sam out of there, Sam kept trying to go back, but Dean just kept pulling him along shouting, “Dammit Sammy, no!”

All Sam could do was stare and try desperately to get back to her. She was still in there. He could still save her. He had to save her. He needed to save her. 

SPN

The next few days passed in a haze. Dean took Sam to a motel and took care of him. He brought him food and water, and made him sleep, and Sam just shouted at him to get the fuck out and to go deal with his own life. But still Dean stayed, woke Sam up from vicious nightmares, helped him, the whole nine. 

Sam on the other hand was practically catatonic. Going through the motions, not able to wrap his head around the fact that his girlfriend, the girl he loved, the girl he was going to marry, was dead. Gone. Burned on the ceiling. It only took thinking about it one time before Sam was getting flashbacks to that night. To when their dad thrust baby Dean into his arms and shouted at him to get out of the house. 

When the funeral came around Dean got Sam in a suit and they went. Sam shook hands, and nodded, and once again went through the motions. He talked to his friends, to the Moore’s, told them he would be going on a road trip for a while with his brother, and wouldn’t be able to be contacted. It was only when Mr. Moore looked at him and said, “Speaking of your brother, he’s looking a little run down, you might wanna watch out for him. Looks like he needs a friend.” Sam’s mind shot back to the waitress in the diner outside Jericho. Round little Margarie with the rosy cheeks and the motherly smile, making him promise to watch out for Dean because he looked like he needed a friend, and Sam had promised, and once again it had slipped his mind. 

Sam looked around for Dean only to find him sitting in a metal chair, successfully avoiding everyone. He was sitting there staring at his hands, looking for all the word ten years younger than he actually was. Sam walked up to him, and put his hands on Dean’s. When Dean looked up Sam was shocked to see how brilliantly green Dean’s eyes were. He was also shocked to see the return of the bags, and though he filled out the suit that Sam had no idea how he got, Dean still looked pretty thin. Sam was willing to bet Dean had spent all of his time looking after him, and none of it looking after himself. 

“C’mon Dean, let’s go.” Dean stood up and Sam hugged him, and was shocked to realize Dean hugged back. 

When he let go Sam said goodbye to all of his friends and to Jessica’s family, hoping for all the world he would be able to come back, despite the dreadful feeling growing in the pit of his stomach, and with it the thought that he was leaving this life behind for good. 

SPN

As they drove out of Palo Alto headed straight for Black Water Ridge Sam suddenly remembered something. He turned to Dean, who had insisted once again on driving because Sam was emotionally compromised and would probably crash his baby, and started to talk.

“Remember on the bridge in Jericho, before the Impala went all Nightrider on us?” Sam asked. Dean visibly tensed.

“Yeah, what about it?” 

“What were you going to say?” Sam asked.

“Huh?”

“You said you weren’t mad at me because of what I’d said, you were mad about something else.” Though Sam planned on drilling it into Dean’s head that he was in no way even remotely stupid, he needed to get this out of the way first. 

“Nothing Sam, it was nothing.” 

“Dean, tell me. It’s bothering you, I can tell. Just tell me what it is.” Dean sighed. His gaze flickered toward the radio, before locking back onto the dark ominous road.

“I’m mad because you never called Sam. Because you took off for three years and didn’t call once. I’m mad because on my 18th birthday Dad gave me a new gun and a cake and you didn’t even call. I’m mad because when I was trying to decide whether or not to drop out I called and you didn’t answer. I’m mad because the first Christmas after you left I called and you didn’t answer. I’m mad because you ignored me Sam. I mean, I know I probably don’t mean as much as Jess, or your college friends did but it still would have been nice to at least talk to you.” Dean had kept his eyes on the road the whole time, but now they skirted to Sam, and Sam’s heart broke. Did he really think of himself like that? Those damned wounded eyes told Sam he did. What the hell happened? How the hell did three short years turn his brother from some irresistibly suave troublemaker to this self-loathing boy hiding behind a cocksure mask? Or was he always like that, and Sam had just elected to ignore it?

“Dean, you listen to me right now. No one, living or dead is ever going to mean more to me than you do.” Yes, he’d included Jessica in that because he realized at that moment that it was true. No one mattered more than Dean to him, not their father, not their mother, not Jess, and Sam would be dammed if he let another thing get in between him and Dean.

Dean looked at him with those wounded innocent eyes and Sam’s resolve solidified.

“You are not stupid, you are the smartest person I’ve ever met, and the best hunter I know. Even at 15 Dean, you were already better than me, and looked like you were going to be better than Dad. You mean more to me than anyone there ever did, and the thing I regret more than anything else in my life is never calling you, and never answering when you called. But I can’t change that now, no matter how much I wish I could. You’re not a brainwashed soldier either, in fact the fact that you were going to take off on your own proves you’re more independent then Dad or I ever gave you credit for. I’m sorry for everything I’ve done, and I know two stupid words isn’t near enough to cut it, but I swear I’ll find a way to make it up to you. I will Dean, I promise.”

Dean just looked at him sideways with weary eyes and nodded half-heartedly. 

Sam just couldn’t stop the voice in his head from saying, don’t make promises you can’t keep.


End file.
